The River heard a splash, and there
she saw the Hunter, the one
she wanted to belong to. The one she wants
to keep her captive and hold her close in his arms.
Meandering through the woods, she hurried
towards him and crashed
into him, making him feel her
against his skin. For the first time
she hated being born this way
she thought, if only
she had hands, she would
caress his face, if only
she had fingers, she would
trace his jawline, and if only
she had lips, she would
kiss him under the sun
while the rest of the world is watching
Cupping his hands, unable to hold her
entirely, his deep-set eyes is filled
with sadness. She cries but
no one sees.
This isn’t the life where they can
belong to each other.
NaPoWriMo Day 8 Prompt: Palinode – to retract a statement made in a previous poem.
I’m not quite sure if I achieved this.The River is a conflicted persona. It is often misunderstood. Even if I am the author, this particular character seems to have a mind of its own. I can’t seem to grasp this character entirely, it being slippery in nature. I decided to just go with the flow and… tada. Well anyway, if you remember my “Dear River” poem, this new one shows the side of River.